A Ray Of Hope
by Totteacher
Summary: my little ons shot for Fandom give back Preemie story.


I sat there with my forehead pressed against the clear, smooth surface. My eyes trained on the small figure inside. Every rise and fall of the tiny chest, even amongst the tubes and sensors, was a victory…a declaration that life would not be surrendered easily.

I placed my hand palm side down against the plane of the glass-like exterior that held my most prized possession…my daughter. I felt a tender touch give my shoulder a gentle squeeze. I needn't tear my eyes away as they watched the epic battle before me to know my husband Edward was with me every step of the way…feeling my fears, my sadness and my joy with each breath our daughter took, filling her premature lungs with oxygen.

"Mr. and Mrs. Cullen?" a gentle voice spoke up from behind us, causing us both to turn away from our bedside vigil.

"Yes?" I quickly responded, fear rising in my throat like a solid mass, threatening to cut off my air. What would it be this time? Would it be more talk of preparing ourselves for the worst? More explaining how at only 29 weeks gestation our child was likely to have mental and physical challenges should she even manage to survive to the point of going home?

My ire rose and I felt my backbone go rigid against my husband's chest. I knew he felt the same for we had had whispered talks about our growing frustrations as we sat beside the incubator in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. Edward's hands clutched at my waist, holding me firmly for support, whether his or my own I wasn't sure, though I was thankful just the same.

The face that greeted us as we turned together was not the stoic face of the doctor we had spoken to only a short time before, but a nurse with a pleasant smile. I tried to soothe myself from becoming worked up when I hadn't even heard what she had to say.

"You can put your hands into the incubator by using these round panels. She would probably love to feel your touch as much as she loves to hear your voices," the nurse said with a smile. My mouth went wide as she showed us how to open the small passageways that would allow our hands into our daughter's small, machine-dependent world.

"Are you sure? That it won't hurt her, I mean?" I asked, worried that my touch would be too clumsy for her paper thin skin, or my hands too dangerous to enter her sterile world no matter how long I had scrubbed before entering the NICU.

"Of course I'm sure," the nurse said with a smile. "Touch is as important as any medication we can give her. It lets her know you're here with her, and it helps her feel close to you," she said as she encouraged me to slip my hands inside.

I glanced at Edward, and he nodded his head, placing his hand at the entrance opposing mine. Our hands moved slowly, a pace set from desire and fear intertwined as my dreams to touch my newborn daughter battled with my need to protect her from every possible threat…even if that possible threat was me. The nurse continued her prompting, simply saying to mind the sensors as we reached to stroke an open area of skin.

I almost cried as I realized how few open areas of skin there were. IV's were strapped to her hands, bound to a small splint so she could not hurt herself should she be able to muster the energy to move her limbs about. Small sensors covered her chest and heels to monitor her heart rate and other necessary information that the doctors and nurses recorded in her chart faithfully. A tiny hat and white cotton socks covered her precious head and feet to help prevent heat loss and maintain her precarious body temperature, and even at the smallest size, her diapers seemed huge on her tiny frame.

I reached almost automatically for the soft skin of her arm, seeing Edward's long, graceful fingers reach out to tenderly stroke the soft, delicate skin of her thigh, both of us sighing happily at the skin to skin contact with our child. This was the first time we had touched this fragile, miniature being since she was born.

I felt silent tears flow down my face, and turned to see that my husband was also overwhelmed by this new experience. Neither of us had imagined this moment only a few short months ago. We had only ever imagined joy and laughter when only a month after our honeymoon our family doctor had told us with a smile that we were expecting. He had taunted and teased us about our honeymoon baby, causing me to blush numerous shades of red while Edward puffed out his chest with pride.

Yet here we were surrounded by scrub-wearing doctors, and medicinal smells that were synonymous with hospitals and sickness. I didn't want to close my eyes. I used them to scan her every feature, her tiny nose, her scrunched up eyes framed with light, reddish eyelashes. Her ears were so small they seemed almost unreal. I allowed myself to explore her with my gaze the same way I wanted to explore her with my hands. I counted her fingers, staring intently at her tiny, perfect fingernails. How feminine she was even only a few hours old.

Edward began to hum beside me, humming the lullaby he had sung to her as she had grown inside me. As I watched my husband interact with our child, I wondered…was this all my fault? Was it something I had done? Had I not eaten enough healthy vegetables, or taken enough vitamins? Had I risked my child by continuing my morning yoga classes? I had so many unanswered questions flooding my head, but my heart also held so much guilt within it.

Only a short time later our visit was interrupted by a doctor. We were asked to step outside while rounds were done, and we did as we were asked, albeit reluctantly. Edward wrapped his arms around me as we walked from the room, his touch making me happy and sad at the same time.

"Love, you should rest," he said, his voice full of concern. "You only gave birth hours ago, and your body needs to recover."

I shook my head, refusing to be weak when our child needed me to be strong for her.

Edward stopped and turned to me while pulling me closer to his chest.

"Bella, she needs her mommy rested," he began as I continued to shake my head, trying to argue with him. But Edward knew how to get what he wanted. "The doctor said you need to rest and eat regularly to produce breast milk for her, and breast milk is best…" he started to say before I interrupted with a small, sad smile.

"I know…best for babies. I guess I had better get something to eat before I lay down then," I said with a grimace. I hadn't taken care of myself since her birth. I hadn't slept or eaten in the sixteen hours since she was born. I had even signed myself out of the hospital against medical advice so I could be closer to our daughter when she had been transferred to a hospital that could more readily handle her premature needs.

"I will speak to a nurse and see if we can find a bed or a cot for you to lie down on." Edward said as he stroked my face gently. I couldn't help but notice that he touched me with the same reverent touch he used on our child. I looked into his eyes and saw them tight with worry.

"Edward?" I asked as I laid my head down on his chest, afraid to meet his eyes when I asked him my next question.

"Yes," he responded softly.

"Are…are...you mad…at me?" I asked as tears pushed themselves forth, making my throat tight with emotion.

"Mad at you? What?" he replied, confused. "Why on earth would I be mad at you, Bella?" he asked as his hand slipped under my chin, drawing my face upwards to meet his.

I couldn't stop the tears now as they flowed freely now, his eyes probing mine with concern.

"For not being able to…keep...keep her safe," I cried as I started to ramble. "Maybe if I hadn't gone for my morning jog…or…or if I hadn't gone shopping at the mall…maybe if I had of been more careful…my water wouldn't have broken so soon. I am the reason our baby girl came months before she was ready. If she dies…it will all be my fault…maybe I…"

I didn't get to finish my ranting as Edward crushed my face into his chest, hugging me tightly and shushing me as he rocked me from side to side.

"I don't ever want to hear words like that from your mouth again. It is not your fault, Bella. The doctor even explained that you did everything you possibly could to give her the best chance of survival. It is not your fault that our doctor was new and didn't realize you had too much amniotic fluid. It's a condition Bella and it has a name…Hydramnios. If we had known about it we could have prepared for it, and you would have been on bed rest. You can't blame yourself for trying to keep yourself and our baby healthy during your pregnancy."

I looked deeply into his lustrous emerald eyes, taking in his supportive words and I snuggled into him. I hadn't cared what the doctor in the emergency room had said. Her words had made little sense as she had tried to sooth me using her medical jargon and to explain what had caused me to go into labor so soon. The words had swirled together and the only thing that had come out of it was the belief that it was somehow all my fault for not being able to do my job of carrying my child for nine full months.

My mind flashed back in time…

I had just gone shopping with Edward's sister, Alice. As much as I wasn't a huge fan of shopping, Alice's energy and the fact that I could buy beautiful little clothes for our growing daughter made it worth doing. We had only found out a few weeks prior that we were having a girl and since then we had been trying to ready our nursery painting the walls in a delicate shades of pink with a chocolate colored trim.

As we had painted Edward had told me that he hoped our daughter had eyes the same color of that chocolate paint, eyes to match her beautiful mother. I had responded by suggesting we paint the nursery over in green, reminding him that I hoped our daughter inherited his startling green eyes instead of my dull brown ones.

Alice and I had discovered the most beautiful crib set for her room, squares of pink and purple offset by delicate chocolate trimming. Everything seemed to be coming together. We had loaded the car with our purchases, me responsibly carrying only the lightest of things, after which we headed out for lunch.

We had been standing in line at a popular hot spot when I began to feel oddly. My stomach felt bloated, and not in the usual morning sickness way that was a constant through my whole first trimester. It felt twisted and uncomfortable. I worried that I had done too much, when Alice came to my side and placed a hand gently on my lower back.

"Bella, are you alright? You don't look too good," she asked with concern.

My body didn't feel alright. I turned to her to grasp her arm about to ask her to take me home when a gush of water flooded down my legs and across the floor. Not now…it was too soon! I still had months to go before our baby was born! Alice's eyes widened in alarm and she turned and headed towards the car, towing me along. She opened the door and lowered me in gently, buckling me in as muscles started to tighten inside of my belly, causing me to cry out.

As I hunched over in the passenger seat, Alice slammed the door and ran for the driver's seat, starting the car as quickly as possible. She honked her horn like a madwoman, scaring pedestrians and drivers alike away from her car as she pulled out of her space and then out of the lot.

"Bella! Bella!" she trilled as I tried to focus on her voice. "Reach down beside you and lower the seat and make it so you're laying back…it might slow things down," she commanded, and despite the pain, I did as she asked. I felt a slight relief in the pressure, but the pain still persisted. Alice continued honking, and from the blur of the scenery flying by I knew she had to be speeding.

I held my hands against my rounded belly and prayed that someway…somehow my baby would be safe, but I didn't even have a way to get in touch with Edward. I felt my chest constrict in panic, but snapped out of it as I heard Alice shout.

"Dial, Dad!"

The hands free device of the car dialed my father in law and I began to sob in relief.

"Hello, Dr. Cullen. Speak…" he started before Alice cut him off.

"Dad?" she blurted out, her voice high and strained.

"Alice? Alice what's wrong sweetheart?" he asked, his voice rising with concern.

"Daddy, I'm on the way to the hospital...with Bella. Her water broke! Can you meet us downstairs at Emergency? Have them ready for her, she is in a lot of pain. And Dad, please call Edward so he can meet us there…" she said quickly as she ended the call with a press of a button.

I wanted to say thank you, but another sharp pain caused me to gasp and jolt upwards.

"Shit!" Alice cursed as she looked over at me. "Hold on Bella, we're almost there!" she said determinedly as she gripped the steering wheel more tightly in her hands, turning her knuckles white.

I could feel sweat pouring down my temples and the sweet vanilla fragrance in Alice's car that I usually enjoyed was cloying in its intensity. I could feel the muscles in my body clenching, and I suddenly realized that I was having contractions.

"I…I think I'm in labor Alice…it's too soon!" I screamed. "I don't want our baby to die," I choked out as I fought the urge to push.

"Bella, don't. Look at me…focus on me. We are going to get you through this. Hold onto the door handle, and whatever you do don't push…do you hear me?" she ordered, her voice demanding.

I nodded my head, unable to speak for fear of more cries escaping. The pain was getting worse, but instead of pushing like my body was screaming for me to do, I forced my thighs tightly together and gritted my teeth.

Alice kept talking to me the whole time, but I couldn't focus on what she was saying. I was too lost in the sounds and feelings whirling around me. I felt the car sway sideways, causing my body to slide across the seat and end up against the door. Before I could blink, my door was thrown open and there stood my father-in-law, Carlisle.

He was the very essence of calm professionalism as he undid my seatbelt and had the attendants help me onto the stretcher. The only thing that gave him away was his eyes. Carlisle was a handsome man, who looked many years younger than he really was, his blonde hair and light blue eyes easily gave him a youthful look that caused him to be mistaken for my husband's older brother instead of his father. Right now though, his eyes were stormy and his brow lined with worry. He knew without a word that the life of his first grandchild was at risk.

Once I was safely on the gurney, he turned to the doctor next to him and nodded to her. She swiftly swooped to my side as the attendants began to push the gurney down the hall.

"Bella, my name is Dr. Whitter. I am now your treating doctor." My eyes flashed towards Carlisle in panic, and the softly spoken doctor seemed to read my mind.

"Carlisle will stay with us, but as you are a member of his family, it is a conflict of interest for him to be your primary caregiver. Do you understand?"

I nodded my head briefly but was unable to focus for long as another wave of pain overcame me. As the pain subsided, I found myself being pushed into a room full of machinery. The attendants shifted me to the hospital bed as gently as possible as a few nurses joined the fray and began applying sensors to my stomach and inserting IV's into my arm. Dr. Whitter came over with a syringe full of clear liquid.

"Bella, I am going to give you an injection. It is a medication that will hopefully slow down and stop the contractions to give the baby more time. Is that okay?" I nodded and whispered a choked reply.

"Just do whatever you can to save my baby!" I pleaded with her as a river of tears slipped from my eyes.

She nodded her head and injected the medication into my IV line. As soon as the plunger was pressed, she moved to the side of the room and disposed of the needle. She then pulled over a machine that I had seen before…an ultrasound machine. After scanning the numbers on the baby's heart monitor she quickly squirted some jelly on my protruding stomach before swiping the wand across its expanse.

Her face was focused as she watched the screen intently. I let my eyes rove between her and Carlisle, trying to gauge their expressions. Dr. Whitter pointed to the screen and I saw Carlisle nod as she looked at him. That couldn't be good. As Dr. Whitter turned to me, Carlisle rubbed a hand over his face and turned away.

"Bella, do you see the pulsing?" I nodded encouraging her to continue. "Well that is the baby's heart. It is nice and strong, if a little fast right now. The problem is this," she said as she gestured to a dull area around the baby's form. I had seen an ultrasound before, and from what I remembered the baby had been surrounded by a grey area. The technician had told me it was the amniotic fluid surrounding the baby. What had happened? I turned my eyes to her, looking for an explanation.

"Bella, the baby should be surrounded by fluid here, but as your water broke there is only a minimal amount remaining. I can tell that by looking at the earlier scans on your file that you had an excess of that fluid."

At that moment the door burst open and there stood Edward, his eyes wide with fear as they darted around the room until they settled on me. His shoulders squared somewhat once he saw me on the bed, and he came to my side, his arms reaching out to embrace me, needing to touch me as much as I needed to be touched.

"As I was saying to your wife, Mr. Cullen, her earlier ultrasound revealed an excess of fluid…it is a condition called Hydramnios. The baby is surrounded by too much fluid and it can trigger early labor, and it is as if the body is tricked into believing that the pregnancy is further along than it actually is, causing the onset of labor." The doctor looked at Edward as if to be sure he understood her words.

"But I don't understand…" he replied in confusion. "The doctor said that everything looked wonderful, and the baby was healthy and a good weight for her gestation," Edward questioned as he ran a hand through his hair in agitation.

"It would seem that the doctor missed the signs that Bella had the condition…" Carlisle intoned, his voice quiet.

I felt Edward's shoulders slump in defeat against me, there was nothing we could do to fight against a problem we hadn't even know had existed. I leaned into him seeking the warmth of his body as if it were a wall that would support me. Even now in a moment of grief he was my strength, giving me the courage to try to be strong.

But the moment of calm didn't last long, for within the next few minutes the contractions were back and hitting me with an intensity of car crash. My body wracked with tremors as I tried to hold back the urge to push, but Dr. Whitter saw through my bravado and called to have an OR prepared for an emergency c-section.

My eyes widened in fear of her words, but Carlisle explained quickly that it would be best for the baby to be born without the stress of having to go through the birth canal, and the sooner she was out, with the least stress to her system, the sooner they could focus on saving her.

I nodded my understanding through my tears as I was wheeled out of the room, and Edward was whisked away from my side, frightening me even more.

I cried…tears for my baby…for myself and for my husband.

I was rolled into a room filled with machines and bright lights that made it hard to see. A nurse with a mask covered face came to my side and covered my hair with a blue hat, as she looked at me with wide blue eyes. Her gaze locked with mine for a moment as I felt her eyes take in my terrified state.

"Mom, if you need anything, just let me know…okay?" she asked as she set up a blue material wall that made it so I couldn't see my body below my neck.

I tried to nod in response, but I wasn't sure if my head was responding to my brain's demands. I felt heavy, and my body felt as if it were sinking. It seemed as if parts of my body were no longer connected, and I realized it must be the medications that they were giving me, as nurse after nurse seemed to be injecting things into the IV pole attached to my bed.

The doctor seemed to materialize by my side, and I realized that she must have been nearby without my even being aware of it. I felt tears prickle at the corners of my eyes and I blinked rapidly to try and hold them off.

"Ed...Edward?" I managed to choke out, my voice sounding weak even to my own ears.

The doctor moved closer to my head.

"He is just about to come through the door, Bella. He just had to be dressed properly," she said in a calm voice before she moved further down my body, past the wall of fabric.

I heard a swishing sound, and suddenly there he was, by my side once more, and even in this moment of terror I felt a bit more faith that everything might be alright. He leaned over and his green eyes locked on mine in a silent moment of communication.

"Alright, let's get this baby born!" Doctor Whitter ordered, and the chaos came to order, each person finding their place. Edward's eye widened and he leaned forward to press his mask covered face to my forehead in an attempt at a kiss.

I could do nothing but lay there, watching Edward's face as he tried to watch both me, and what was happening below the blue wall of fabric. His eyes told me everything…he was afraid. I heard the doctor asking for scalpels and suction, and other various tools and assistance that made little sense to my mind amidst the pandemonium of the moment.

I watched as Edward's eyes went wide and then closed tightly before he opened them once more and I saw him swallow thickly at the same time that the room broke into motion. Nurses sprang into action, moving across the room where I couldn't see. The doctor ordered more suction and spoke to the nurses about scales and reactions as they moved around each other as if in some sort of choreographed dance.

I saw a flash of ruddy, bluish skin swaddled in a blanket as it was moved swiftly to the other side of the room. Hushed voices spoke amidst the increased beeping of the high tech machinery. Edward's eyes flashed to me and he leaned down, closing his eyes as he pressed his forehead against mine and he whispered.

"It's a girl."

Those words still kept flashing through my head as she had been whisked away. They remained even after I had been cleaned up and returned to my room, and in the hours that followed as I waited for any additional information from the doctors.

The news came in bits and pieces as we waited together. She wasn't able to breathe on her own. She was two pounds and ten and a half ounces, fifteen inches long with all her fingers and all of her toes. She needed to be tube fed because breast or bottle feeding would be too hard for now. Her hair was dark and the color hard to judge, and her eyes were dark as well, but they seemed to be a shade between blue and green. According to doctors, she was right where she should have been for her gestation, but that did little to comfort me as they continued to voice their concerns.

The worries the doctors had were severe…everything from possible respiratory failure to apnea spells, causing our little angel to stop breathing. The doctors had her in an incubator to keep her warm due to her lack of body fat, and monitors to watch her heart rate and oxygen levels. I felt so utterly helpless and as I leaned against her small glass-entombed world, I willed every ounce of strength I had to leave me in order to go to her to make her stronger, to protect her the way my body had for the last five months.

Carlisle came to check on his granddaughter and asked me if I would be willing to pump breast milk for her as it was the best form on nutrition for premature babies. He didn't have to ask me twice. I could finally do something, and I made it my new mission.

For the next few days we lived at the hospital and settled into a new routine. We slept on a couch in Carlisle's office and spent every possible moment with our little girl, stroking her soft skin in between pumping for her meals. After a day or so my milk came in and I proudly filled bottle after bottle for the nurses to give our tiny blossom of a child in order to help her grow and bloom.

We learned how to care for her, and how to carefully change diapers around the wires that monitored her every breath. We cried with each alert of the monitor as she stopped breathing and sighed with relief when the monitors came to life as her breathing restarted once more. With every ounce the doctor's said she gained we celebrated, but never so much as we did the first night she went the whole night without an apnea episode.

We sat together in the NICU and in the wee hours of the morning we came up with the perfect name for our tiny miracle…Hope.

Hope Marie Cullen continued to make progress with very few setbacks. She steadily continued to gain weight with the milk my body produced for her. Her skin became a lovely rosy hue as she began to put weight on to help maintain her body temperature.

The next milestone came unexpectedly when Doctor Whitter came to see us in Carlisle's office as I was pumping for Hope's next meal. She sat us down to inform us that they were going to take Hope off the machines that assisted her breathing to see if she was able to hold her own, now that she was so much stronger.

We held our collective breaths as the tubes were removed, and we cried in relief as we watched the steady rise and fall of Hope's chest as she filled her small lungs with air all by herself. What a little fighter she was. That was the day I really began to believe that she would come home.

Week two ended and she was up to over three pounds now, breathing strongly on her own, but that night we had a setback. Hope's heart began to beat erratically and the doctors had to spend almost half an hour with her to regulate it again. After a very scary night she pulled through with a strong, steady blip on her monitor.

With each day, Edward and I had a celebratory meal together in the hospital's cafeteria. I was blessed that Edward was able to stay with me, his job giving him the flexibility to stay all hours at the hospital with our little Hope. As she grew stronger, his smile became more relaxed, more real. I knew he felt helpless. The only thing he could do was to ensure that I ate enough to make her the milk our baby needed, and he was always on hand with anything I could possibly wish to eat or drink.

At thirty three weeks gestation, she was holding strong and starting to show that she had her daddy's hair as well as his spirit. Her wide eyes still seemed to be a mix of blue and green, but she was beginning to open them more and more as she squirmed to show her displeasure at being prodded and poked for blood tests. I hated to see her cry, and my body ached to hold her and sooth her and I was shocked when a nurse pulled over a chair and asked if I wanted to try to nurse her. I cried as I nodded my head yes, and for the first real time I got to hold her, not just to touch and stroke, but to actually hold her skin against mine as she nuzzled my chest.

Breastfeeding was harder than I expected, but as Edward sat with us stroking her hair, and the nurses showed me again and again how to help her latch properly, she finally seemed to get the idea. This was our first real family moment and Edward took picture after picture of Hope in my arms as he kept telling me how lucky he was to have the two most beautiful girls in his life.

As the days passed, Carlisle started preparing us for the fact that when Hope got to thirty six weeks gestation, when she should have been still in my belly, she would be allowed to go home if all was well. The next few days were a flurry of activity and Hope began to shed her monitors, sensors and wires. The day she began to breastfeed on her own was when the nurses began to wean her off of her tube feedings, only supplementing a bit through the night. Soon the day came when she lost them altogether.

Next she got to escape her incubator to have her now almost four pound frame placed onto a heated bed. Our little girl was growing. I began to see new families arrive as my grief-stricken world began to open up into a new world of possibilities, now that my baby was doing so well. Edward and I tried to offer them optimism in the form of Hope.

Thirty five weeks found us wanting to be home, but the hospital had a policy of keeping preemies until they reached a certain age, and we readily agreed once the doctors explained the purpose of that plan. Edward now went home just long enough to get things ready and to unpack the smaller sets of clothing that Alice and Carlisle's wife, Esme, had bought for the baby with Edward's other sister Rosalie.

The women had gone on a shopping rampage, purchasing everything a tiny baby like Hope would need. All that was left to do was to wait and pray that nothing else went wrong. We began to count down the days. Seven days left… six days…five…then four. The light at the end of our tunnel had begun to shine more brightly.

Three days…two…then one. Our last day. Hope had now been here for almost two months and I cried as I realized how much we were going to miss all of these people who had become our family. Many of the nurses brought in little things for Hope, such as booties and soft fleece blankets to keep her warm. We were speechless at their thoughtfulness and promised to visit them again so that Hope would always know what they had done for her.

I couldn't believe that we were taking our baby home today. She would finally be where she belonged, in the nursery we had designed just for her, each item picked and placed with love. Edward packed up all our things as he happily whistled a merry little tune that seemed to have sprung into his head over the last week or so. I couldn't help but smile as I watched him pack an item and then go over to kiss Hope before he repeated the whole process over again.

I was so happy that the worries we had when we arrived here we gone. Yes we still had to watch our little angel, but she now had a very bright future indeed and it was starting today. We were going home.


End file.
